


the tyrants of today

by horatioandophelia



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, les mis
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other, enjoltaire - Freeform, exr - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:21:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horatioandophelia/pseuds/horatioandophelia
Summary: Jehan bets Grantaire that R can't go one meeting without starting a fight with Enjolras (SPOILERS: Jehan wins). They both struggle with being desperately in love with people they cannot have, and getting drunk after meetings is Not Usually a Good Idea, but sometimes...





	the tyrants of today

Grantaire threw himself onto the mattress, groaning loudly. From their laptop, Jehan’s eyes lingered on the artist’s prostrate form for a moment before returning to their essay.

“Why, Prouvaire?”

“Why is he -- ” began Jehan.

“So  _ pretty?”  _ cried Grantaire.

“So pretty,” Jehan finished tiredly. “How was the meeting, then? Or should I ask?”

“Excellent, much discussion about the new waves of nationalism sweeping our beloved  _ Union _ _ européenne _ _ ,  _ and all of that,” Grantaire said, gesticulating grandly at the ceiling. “Potential consequences for those of us who actually give a damn about the future of the world - and not me, that’s for sure,” he added. “Rising dictatorship of the elite and the tyrants of today. All of that lovely and miserable garbage. Your presence was much missed, by the way,” he said, suddenly strict, raising his head to fix his eyes on Jehan. “Courfeyrac was particularly concerned.”

“How flattering. I’m not sure that’s relevant, given that we had an agreement about today.”

Grantaire let his head fall back onto the bed, suddenly quiet. “Damn. I was hoping you’d forgotten.”

“Never,” Jehan smiled sweetly. “So?”

“Okay,” began Grantaire. “Okay, so I tried, right? I listened to his points - total bullshit, the usual - and I didn’t say anything, but then he started, like,  _ pausing,  _ and  _ looking right at me _ , right when I would normally loudly object to said bullshit. And I was doing a stellar job of staying chill and not saying anything, but like, Jehan. JJ. Baby J. He started saying shit that we had literally had a fight about  _ last week.  _ I mean, I’m almost ninety percent sure he  _ wanted  _ me to -- ”

_ “So?” _

A crumpled handful of cash smacked Jehan square in the face. “Fine! Take your money! You won the damn bet! I hope you know you just took half my beer money for tonight, you asshole.”

Jehan daintily unfolded the bills, raising a delicate eyebrow. “Name-calling doesn’t change the fact that I won, R. And the point wasn’t really the money anyway.”

“I know,” sighed Grantaire. “God, I’m just so tired of looking at him and seeing something, I don’t know, something so radiant and so beautiful that I can’t even -- ”

Jehan’s eyes fluttered shut. “Yes,” they murmured. “Yes, I know.”

 

“Enjolras, could we go back to that point about Merkel’s policy -- ”

“ _ No,  _ Combeferre, just give me one more second -- ”

“By all means, Apollo, stop bothering with trying to change my opinion,” smirked Grantaire. “You know there’s no convincing me. Why keep trying?”

Enjolras’s nostrils flared; his eyes lit up as they leapt to Grantaire’s provocative smile. Grantaire could see his jaw clench as he took a deep breath. “Fine,” he snapped. “Let’s move on. But don’t think I won’t talk to you about this after the meeting. Combeferre?”

Grantaire grinned.

“I don’t even know why I bothered with that bet,” Jehan whispered as Combeferre began expounding on immigration reform. “It’s obvious you can’t help but antagonize him.”

“Don’t know why you’re complaining, since you won,” grumbled Grantaire.

Jehan turned their eyes onto the artist. Grantaire’s shirt was covered in oil stains, his hands cracked and raw from his work, his pants covered in paint, his hair wild, his face haggard and exhausted, his shoulders stooped, his wine glass almost empty: all in all, the picture of a run-down man. And yet his soul shone out of his eyes at Enjolras in a golden, dreaming manner that belied everything else about him. 

“I guess I hoped,” began the poet. “I guess I hoped that we’d both have the courage to move on. You know, get over it when it’s so obviously not going to go anywhere.” They blinked rapidly, looking up at the ceiling and determinedly  _ not  _ at a certain man by the bar.

Grantaire turned bright eyes on Jehan. “Oh, hey, no, Prouvaire…” 

“No, R, it’s fine,” they said swiftly, mustering a smile. “Honestly.”

“I really think you should give it a shot, you know. Just asking to get coffee or something. I know he’d say yes.”

Jehan’s eyes closed softly. “Yes, he would, R. And then we’d sleep together once or twice and then it’d be over. We both know I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t bear it. It’s just -- it’s easier to pretend that he wouldn’t want to.”

“Yeah,” said Grantaire heavily. “But at least you can pretend. I’m faced with the ugly truth every damn day and I still don’t have the guts to get away from it.” He finished the last swallow of his…  _ fifth? sixth?  _ drink of the evening, his heavy-lidded eyes gazing out at the bright spark of Enjolras’s face.

“I still think you have a shot, R. Really, I do.”

“And that is why everybody loves you, J.”

 

“Hey, thanks for coming, everybody! If you want a t-shirt, stop by the desk over there and Courf will help you out! Also, don’t forget to sign up for our emails on your way out! Protest is next week, hope we see you there!”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre said softly. 

Enjolras sighed. “Yeah?”

“I really think you should think about what R was saying about immigrant cultures clashing with European cultures and creating prejudice from ignorance, that was really good if we’re going to address integration into the political stream --  ”

“I  _ know  _ I should, Ferre, but when he says it just to make me look stupid in front of everyone -- ”

“I don’t think he does it to make you look stupid, and I think you know that, too.”

“Yeah, you know, I’ve thought about that, but why else would he do it? Does he just get a kick out of pissing me off?”

Combeferre shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe he just wants your attention.”

“What on Earth for?”

Combeferre held his gaze. “Maybe you should think about it.” 

Enjolras blinked. “What does that mean?”

“Hey! Ferre! Check this one out! Bahorel found a new boxing place right by the old Starbucks!” Joly cried enthusiastically from the corner booth. Combeferre patted Enjolras’s shoulder and slipped past him, leaving him slightly bereft. 

_ Maybe you should think about it. _

 

“I can’t help it, Prouvaire, he’s wonderful. Especially when he’s  _ mad,  _ oh my god, you have no idea, he just  _ glows --  _ ”

“Yes, R, but you’re drunk, and everyone is staring,” hissed Jehan. “How much wine did you have tonight?”

“I don’t know, J, but let me tell you what I  _ do  _ know, and that is that Apoll--” he stopped abruptly, hiccupping. “Apollo is brighter still than the envious moon - Romeo and Juliet, you know - and all the stars in the heavens, and that if he were to cast me out, I would still write him letters,  _ De Profundis  _ style, you know what I mean -- ”

“Yes, R, I’m sure, but why did you do this tonight? You can barely stand!”

Grantaire sighed, and suddenly slumped on Prouvaire’s tiny form as the poet struggled to support his weight. “I don’t know, J. Maybe it was that - that stupid bet, d’you remember? The bet? And I thought, hey, I can go without Apollo’s wrath at me for one goddamn week, shouldn’t be too hard… And then I couldn’t, and you won the bet, you fucker,” he laughed weakly. “And I realized I couldn’t ever go without him, I can’t go without fighting him, I can’t be without him. That I love him more than I love life itself. I can’t ever leave him. And I can’t ever be free.”

Jehan glanced around, sighing in relief as they noticed Enjolras deep in conversation in the corner booth with Bahorel, Combeferre, and Joly. “I know, it’s bad, but we’ve got to go. Let’s just get you home, R, alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry for being so fucking morbid. Jesus, I’m depressing  _ myself _ with this shit and drunks are s’posed to be  _ happy _ ,” murmured the artist, slumping more and more onto Jehan. The poet’s knees began to wobble dangerously.

“Hey, Jehan, need some help?” 

Jehan’s spine suddenly snapped straight as Courfeyrac’s voice reached them.

“Oh, uh, sure. Thanks,” they said.

“No problem,” said Courfeyrac, smiling. “What’s up with R?”

“Nothin’ new,” mumbled Grantaire, his head lolling. “Just my deathless love for Apollo and how doomed it is. Y’know, Rimbaud talks about ‘burning patience,’ but it’s a fucking lie. It sounds golden and beautiful, but Enjolras -- my love for Enjolras has burned the life out of me, I’m telling you… it’s hopeless, hopeless, and I’ll love him ‘til I die. D’you know much about -- about love, Courf?”

Courfeyrac suddenly lost his smile, but Jehan noticed that he gallantly tried to stay upbeat. “I’m hopeless about getting you home in one piece, R. Unrequited love is something to talk about when you can walk. Can you drive him, Jehan?” He asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the door.

Jehan nodded, swallowing back all the things they wished they had the courage to say.

 

_ “My love for Enjolras has burned the life out of me, I’m telling you… it’s hopeless, hopeless, and I’ll love him until I die.” _

Enjolras stood, stunned, as he watched Courfeyrac and Jehan carry Grantaire’s dead weight between them out the door. 

Grantaire -- in love? With  _ him?  _ But he had always thought that love was a - a distant sunrise, something ethereal and beautiful, and so many of their fights had been ugly and vicious and mean… In  _ love?  _ With Enjolras?

Could all of the fighting, all of the cynicism, all of the smirking victories and the smarting defeats, could all of it have been an illusion? Something Grantaire hid behind, to mask his apparent  _ love  _ for Enjolras? 

Now that he thought about it, there were moments - there had always been moments - when Grantaire’s whole self seemed to glow with joy, right in the middle of a fight; he would smile, and he would sometimes be so beautiful in those moments that Enjolras had thought, maybe, that Grantaire might possibly -- but no, Enjolras had always convinced himself that that shining look was because R was making him look like a fool, but perhaps… 

  
  


_ You:  _ Hey Courf?

_ Courfeyrac:  _ whats up man

_ You:  _ Can we meet for coffee sometime this week? I want to talk about something with you and I 

think you’re the best expert on it

_ Courfeyrac:  _ yeah sure what time

 

“I know it’s not my place to say this, but if you overheard it then there’s nothing I can really do about it. Yes, he’s in love with you, but Enjolras, I can’t believe you didn’t know before now. He’s only mentioned it to, hmm, just about  _ everyone. _ ”

“Yes, but I thought… I thought those were jokes. I thought he was making fun of me because -- ”

“Why? Why would you think that he was making fun of -- unless you--?  _ No way!  _ You like him back?  _ What?” _

_ “Shhh!”  _ hissed Enjolras, glancing around the cafe with a panicked expression. “I don’t - I don’t know, alright? I just thought he hated me, so I kind of ignored everything I felt about him. I didn’t really think he’d like me, let alone be in  _ love  _ with me!”

Courfeyrac’s eyes were almost as wide as his smile. “You  _ like  _ him! Oh my God, this is gold. Just you wait, when Feuilly hears this, he’s going to  _ lose it,  _ he’s been betting on this since freshman year!”

“You can’t tell Feuilly! You can’t tell anyone!”

“Well then, what exactly do you want me to do?”

 

“Shit,” muttered Grantaire, stepping back from his peephole and opening his front door wearily. “Look, Apollo, I think we should just let this one slide. Immigration reform is necessary, blah blah blah, can we let it go? I was drunk when I said that bit about clashing cultures, it doesn’t even matter.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” Enjolras looked determined, his face set and his eyes vivid.

“Oh.” Icy fingers suddenly spiked through Grantaire’s chest. “Oh. I’m out. You’re kicking me out.”

“What?”

“No, no, I get it, and it’s okay. I understand, I really do. The group is better off -  _ you’re  _ better off without me distracting you. Surprised I lasted this long, honestly.”

“No, Grantaire, that’s not - that’s not - ” stammered Enjolras.

“It’s okay, Apollo, I promise. No hard feelings. I won’t come to anymore meetings. There, now you don’t have to tell me and feel bad.” He began to close the door, but Enjolras grabbed it and pulled it back open.

“Courfeyrac said you’d do this, and I didn’t believe him, but I guess I should have.”

Grantaire frowned. “Courfeyrac? You talked to Courfeyrac about me?”

“Yeah, he must have been right because he said you’d be all weird about it,” continued Enjolras.

“Excuse me,  _ weird?” _

“And that you’d probably think it was a joke.”

“Think  _ what  _ was a joke?”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “R, I’d very much like it if you went on a date with me.”

Grantaire stared at him.

“Grantaire?”

Grantaire blinked. The silence stretched horribly.

“Well, he must have been less right when he said that you’d jump for joy,” Enjolras joked mirthlessly. “This was a bad idea. I’m really sorry. Of course I’d love it if you still came to meetings, but I understand if you aren’t comfortable anymore.” His hand slid numbly from the door as he turned away. “I really am sorry,” he tacked on uselessly.

“You never,” Grantaire started.

Enjolras turned back to look at him.

“You never call me ‘R’. It’s always ‘Grantaire,’ you never… you never say ‘R’.”

Enjolras smiled slightly. “I guess I never let myself say ‘R’ because if I did, it’d mean something. You know,” he added, “You never call me by my name; it’s always ‘Apollo’.”

Grantaire looked at him softly. “I know, Enjolras.”

Enjolras frowned. “But -- ”

“Did you know,” Grantaire said conversationally, “That Jehan made a bet with me? That I wouldn’t be able to go one meeting without antagonizing you? Without starting a fight?”

Enjolras shook his head.

“They did. And I thought I could win. I thought,  _ this’ll be easy, I can go one week without fighting this gorgeous bastard. _ And then I got to the meeting and I couldn’t bear it, I couldn’t bear not fighting with you. Have you seen yourself when you’re angry? You’re so beautiful that I can hardly stand it, I can barely breathe. You’re radiant, Enjolras, and I’m so in love with you that some mornings I feel like I can’t bear another day of living and loving you.”

Enjolras registered somewhere in the back of his mind that he was crying, tears running hot down his face. “I remember that meeting,” he croaked. “You weren’t fighting back, it felt like everything was wrong, and I felt… I felt so lost without you there to tell me I was wrong about everything.”

Grantaire swallowed. “Yeah. But for you, it’s just a crush, or an infatuation, or maybe you just like having someone who contradicts you, and you think that’s love.” He smiled miserably. “But you’ve got to know that for me, you’re… everything. And I can’t go on a date with you, because I want everything with you. And if you date me and realize that you don’t want me anymore - which, hey, no blame there, have you seen me? - I think that might just kill me. And I could not be more serious.”

“But I wouldn’t!” Enjolras cried, scrubbing his face with the back of his hand. “I wouldn’t change my mind! Do you know how terrified I was, when you didn’t fight back at the beginning of that meeting? And how I realized that not having you there to fight with would be more terrifying than anything else I could imagine? Without you there, I’m nothing! Without you, I have nothing! You have to believe me!”

Suddenly Grantaire’s arms were around him, and he was saturated in the artist’s smell - paint and cigarettes and coffee and  _ warmth.  _

“Hey, Apollo,” murmured Grantaire into his collarbone. Somehow Enjolras’s arms had found their way around him; Enjolras didn’t quite know how. “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

Enjolras looked down just as Grantaire looked up, and he saw again that bright, wild look in Grantaire’s face, a look he suddenly realized was  _ for him,  _ and he leaned down and kissed him. 

_ This  _ was what he was missing, the warmth and sweetness of Grantaire’s mouth, the taste of coffee and cigarettes, the tug of his calloused fingers in Enjolras’s hair, the mad rush of hunger from their tongues brushing. Enjolras could do this all day, everyday, for the rest of his life; this was almost too good to be  _ real…  _

After several moments, Grantaire pulled back. Enjolras’s eyes opened slowly, his mind foggy and golden, and he looked into Grantaire’s questioning eyes. 

“This isn’t a joke, you know,” he managed to say after a moment. “I just realized that you’re just… the most important person. In my life. Ever.”

Grantaire smirked. “Eloquent.”

“Hey!” 

Grantaire grinned up at him, unapologetic. The hunger for Grantaire’s touch made a sudden and rapid comeback, and he cleared his throat, steeling himself. “So, um. Did you want to go on a date, or… ?”

Grantaire threw his head back, laughing, and Enjolras was hit with a new wave of desire to cover that throat with kisses. “Come in,” he said, and his eyes were more radiantly happy than Enjolras had ever seen them.

 

“Courf?”

Courfeyrac started up in his chair. “Yeah, what’s up, Jehan?”

“Uh, could I talk to you about something?”

“Yeah, sure, what is it?”

Jehan bit their lip. “I just. I just wanted to tell you that I’m kind of… I’m pretty in love. With you. And that I just thought that you should know. And I really am sorry for burdening you with that, and I don’t expect anything, of course not! But I just. Thought you should know. Yeah.”

Courfeyrac swallowed hard. “Jehan, it’s not a burden.”

Jehan tried to smile, studying their feet. “Is this where you pull a Ross Geller and tell me that it’s always a good day when someone tells you they’re in love with you?”

“Yeah, it is a good day when someone tells you they love you.”

Jehan’s tears began to occlude their vision. “Yeah. Rachel was really tough about that whole thing, but I’m just a wreck.” They tried to laugh, but failed miserably. “Thanks for being so nice about it though. I just wanted to tell you.” They took a deep breath, blinking away some of the tears. “I’ll see you, Courf.” 

“Jehan,” said Courfeyrac.

“Yeah?” their voice wobbled.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Jehan’s stomach turned over. “I - No. I can’t, I can’t be another one of your one-night stands, Courf. I don’t mind, I don’t judge, but I can’t do that when I’m in love with you. Thank you, but… no.”

“You wouldn’t be.”

Jehan looked at Courfeyrac, studying his face, praying for strength. “How do I know that?”

Courfeyrac swallowed again. “I’ve never been in love with someone, Jehan, I’m sure you know that. I’ve bragged about it, I’ve considered myself lucky that I’ve never fallen into that particular trap. I thought my life without relationships and romantic love was a blessing.”

Jehan turned away, their eyes burning with tears.

“But then one day I started thinking about you, and then I thought about you more and more. I realized that you’re basically all I think about. And then it occurred to me that this feeling I feel for you? It’s not a trap, it’s not a game or a cage, it’s just… I just love you. I don’t know how else to say it.”

Jehan’s knees, always unreliable, gave out, and they slumped against Courfeyrac’s chest. “Whoa, hey there,” chuckled Courfeyrac tremulously. “If you wanted me to hold you, you could have just said so.”

Jehan shook their head, dizzy with discovery. “Just give me a second.”

“Yeah,” murmured Courfeyrac. “Yeah, sweetheart. All the time you need.”


End file.
